


Shooting for the Stars

by hp_fangal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hp_fangal/pseuds/hp_fangal
Summary: The comment she left on Harry Potter's Instagram was simple and straightforward: I caught my boyfriend snogging his best mate and now I want to egg his house this Friday night. You in?A Muggle AU, H/G
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 20
Kudos: 79





	Shooting for the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following prompt on Tumblr: "You're famous and I jokingly left a comment on your social media post asking if you'll go egg my ex-partner's house with me this weekend, and I never actually expected you to respond, let alone show up Friday night with dark sweatshirts, toilet paper rolls, and three egg cartons tucked under your arm".

Ginny sighed as she dropped into her seat next to Demelza. “Problem?” asked Demelza without looking up from her phone as she reached for her beer. 

Scowling, Ginny waved at the bartender for a beer of her own. “I just ended it with Dean,” she said. “I caught him out back snogging Seamus!”

That got a set of raised eyebrows from Demelza as she took a sip of her beer. “I always knew there was something in the air between those two,” she said.

“Yes, yes I know, you warned me to look into that, I remember,” said Ginny, waving her friend off. “And like — I don’t hate that they clearly want to be together, but I wish that — God, why didn’t he —”

“Have the guts to tell you?” suggested Demelza. 

Ginny slumped against the bar. “Yeah,” she said. “I’d have understood if he’d explained it to me instead of my having to walk in on it!” She snagged her beer and chugged it down in one go. Slamming the empty glass against the table, she glared at the bar top. “I want to egg his house for this,” she said. “He _deserves_ it for treating me like this!”

Demelza sighed. “Let’s not get hasty, Ginny,” she said. “Just — give it a day or two to settle in before you go making any rash decisions.”

They fell into silence, Ginny glancing up at the telly mounted on the wall closest to them. They were doing a piece of excellent football moments in the last five years. They were currently showing a clip of England’s game against Romania the previous year. Ginny watched as a lanky, black-haired bloke cleverly kicked the ball away from the opposing team, dodged around the defensive line, and scored moment’s later. The camera zoomed in on his face, bringing his green eyes into focus. They were sparkling, alive in a way that they never were during interviews. 

“You know who I bet would help me since you clearly aren’t going to be my assist on this?” Ginny found herself saying as she dug out her own mobile. “Harry Potter.”

Demelza’s eyebrows shot up even higher than before. “The famous football player?” she said, gesturing to the bloke on the telly. “You’re _joking_ — you _know_ Potter’s the most _private_ player to have _ever_ been on England’s team! There’s no way he’d even _respond_ to a request like that!”

Ginny shrugged. “It’ll make me feel better, even if nothing comes of it,” she said, pulling up Harry Potter’s Instagram. She knew it was just his public one, figured he probably never even read the comments one each post, but just putting it out there seemed better than sulking. 

“Impulsive,” sighed Demelza, ”but okay.”

“It _is_ my middle name, you know,” said Ginny, turning the phone screen off to grin at her friend.

“I thought it was Molly, but Impulsive _definitely_ fits better,” snorted Demelza. “ _So_ impulsive you risked failing French for a chance on a national team you had _no_ business trying out for —”

“I still stand by that decision for the rest of my life,” said Ginny hotly. “A chance at the Women’s World Cup? How could I have _not_ gone for it?”

“And _that’s_ why I love you,” said Demelza. “Shooting for the stars, you are.”

“Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve,” returned Ginny flippantly as she unlocked her phone again.

The comment she left on Harry Potter’s Instagram was simple and straightforward: _I caught my boyfriend snogging his best mate and now I want to egg his house this Friday night. You in?_

She posted it, shoved her phone into her purse, and drowned her sorrows in beer. 

* * *

The next two days were rather harrowing as Ginny had to retrieve some of her personal items from Dean’s house (that he shared with Seamus, _why_ had she never put two and two together?) and dump off his items from her flat, but Ginny wasn’t a stubborn Weasley for nothing. She had made her choice, which meant accepting the consequences that went along with it. 

Dean had stammered awkwardly when she turned up with the box of his stuff and demanded her belongings back, but let her into the small house without complaint. Ginny had taken perverse pleasure in dumping out the box of his stuff on the couch before gathering up her things and leaving without a word. It was a testament to how righteous Ginny was in her rage that Dean didn’t complain about her actions once. 

_Clearly_ he had not been Mr. Right. 

Maybe there was no such thing. Maybe Ginny was better off alone. Demelza just rolled her eyes when Ginny proposed this. “Maudlin, I see,” she snarked before shoving another beer in Ginny’s hand. “I miss happy-drunk Ginny.”

“Piss off,” said Ginny. “Three guys, three fails. _Clearly_ there’s no guy out there for me.”

“One,” said Demelza, leaning in close to glare at Ginny that evening in her tiny flat. “We don’t count the first guy. Riddle was a complete and utter arse and deserved everything he got.”

“I suppose,” said Ginny.

“Two, Michael was just _boring.”_

Ginny laughed. “True.”

“And three, Dean was too busy being in _denial_ to see who he belonged with,” finished Demelza firmly. “Not. Your. Fault.” She wagged her finger in Ginny’s face. “The right guy is out there, I _know_ it.”

“Of _course_ he is,” said Ginny, if only to get Demelza to stop talking about her unsuccessful love life. She propped her head on one hand and stared at the telly, wishing her face could be a part of _any_ of the professional teams she saw there. Her dream, her dearest ambition… _There’s more to life than pursuing a career in social work and being a shop girl,_ she told herself. There _had_ to be. 

* * *

It was Friday afternoon when it happened. Ginny’s phone buzzed as she headed down the stairs at Tottenham Court Station at the end of her shift at the shop, and she pulled it out to see she had received a message on Instagram. 

From...

Ginny stumbled and almost toppled down the stairs. 

Harry Potter?

Ignoring the glares from others as they had to make their way around her where she stood stock-still on the stairs, Ginny opened the message and stared at it in shock. 

_Sounds like your ex did you wrong. What station can I meet you at?_

This was not actually happening, was it? It had been a joke, something to make her feel a bit better about her current situation, not...

Ginny found herself responding before she could think it through, telling him precisely which station was closest to Dean’s place. 

A few moments later, there was a response: _Meet round 10?_

Ginny’s mouth fell open. Was this... it was really going to happen, wasn’t it?

She swallowed, thought for a moment, and then replied with one word: _Yes._

* * *

“I must be _completely_ mental,” Ginny muttered to herself as she stepped off the train a few minutes before ten that night. “There’s _no_ way this is actually going to happen. It was probably one of his underlings or something... there’s —”

“Are you GintheWeasley?”

Ginny looked around and felt the air vanish from her lungs. It was him. 

Harry Potter was standing in front of her. 

Harry the amazing football player Potter was standing in front of her, holding two dark-colored hoodies, a bag with what looked like toilet paper, and three cartons of eggs tucked under his arm. He was standing there with that incredible messy black hair, those startlingly green eyes that stood out from behind the round glasses he wore when he wasn’t on the field, and that lopsided smile he always flashed at cameras before ducking out from the demands of eager interviewers and screaming fans. 

“Hi,” said Ginny stupidly. “I — I mean, _yes_ , that’s me. Ginny Weasley.”

Harry’s lopsided smile grew into something very genuine. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “I er, I’m glad you came.”

“I was mostly joking when I wrote that comment,” said Ginny before she could consider what she was saying. “I know that’s just your public page, I figured you didn’t read the comments or anything —”

“I don’t,” said Harry with a small shrug. “Well, not often, anyway.” He smiled at her again. “My friend — Hermione — she said I should try to interact with my fans a bit more, and well... your comment just stood out to me.” He shrugged again. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s _more_ than okay,” said Ginny, stepping closer and smiling. “And honestly, the prat deserves it.”

Harry grinned. “Shall we, then?” He held out one of the hoodies, and Ginny took it and tugged it on, taking over with the bag and the egg cartons so Harry could do the same. Her hand briefly came in contact with his when he passed the supplies to her, and it felt warm and smooth and just utterly perfect. 

Ginny _needed_ to reel in her thoughts before things got out of control.

“So, your friend,” she ventured. “You said her name was Hermione?” Harry nodded. “Does she approve of what we’re going to be doing?”

Harry chuckled. “This is definitely _not_ what she meant when she told me to interact with my fans, but my godfather thought it sounded like a brilliant idea, so… here we are.”

Ginny grinned. She had to admit that this godfather of his must be the kind of person her brothers Fred and George would approve of.

Harry asked for more details about her ex-boyfriend as they left the station and set off for the house. Ginny was more than happy to share the details of Dean and Seamus’s strangely close friendship that apparently had blossomed into more some two weeks before Ginny found them snogging behind the bar they had frequented together for the last year. “I honestly don’t know how I didn’t see it for what it was,” she groused. “The way Seamus looks at Dean, how could I have just _written_ that off as part of their long-time friendship?”

“If it helps at all, the last girl I dated just wanted to use me to get close to Cedric Diggory.”

Ginny gaped at Harry. “Wait, you aren’t talking about —?”

“His fiancé Cho Chang?” Harry smiled bitterly. “Right in one.”

“That’s awful,” said Ginny, reaching out without thinking about it and laying her hand against Harry’s arm. He glanced down at it before smiling at her. 

“It’s all right,” he said. “She apparently did the same sort of thing when she was in school. Though I did feel like a bit of an idiot when I saw her chatting Diggory up like she was single.” His mouth twisted in an unhappy grimace. “I don’t like that I fell for it.”

“Some people are content to pretend they’re someone they’re not just to use you for their own means,” said Ginny quietly, thinking of her first relationship with Tom Riddle. 

Harry nodded, and they walked in silence for a bit. “It’s just around the corner up ahead,” said Ginny, pointing. Harry nodded.

“We should probably pull our hoods up now,” he said. Ginny agreed and they both did so, carefully dividing their items between themselves before heading around the corner. 

Ginny could immediately tell that no one was home. They probably went out on a date together, she thought with a frown. How someone could seem so nice and then turn out to be —

“Ready?” Harry asked her quietly. Ginny nodded, and they quickly leapt into action, beginning with the rolls of toilet paper all over the trees in the front garden as well as the shrubbery and the windows. Then they stood on the pavement, egg cartons open. 

“Want to go first?” asked Harry softly. 

Ginny nodded and picked up an egg. “I wish I’d never believed his lies that Seamus was just his best mate,” she whispered before chucking the egg as hard as she could against the front door. 

Harry smiled. “Nice aim,” he commented before landing an egg of his own on the front window to the left of the door. 

They took turns, Ginny finding herself naming wishes and regrets about her failed relationship, and smiling sadly when Harry began to do the same. 

“I wish I’d never believed Cho was interested in me.”

_Crack!_

“I wish I’d told Dean to _shove_ _it_ when he said Seamus acted flirty with everyone.”

_Crack!_

“I wish I’d listened to Hermione when she said she saw Cho researching Cedric on my laptop.”

_Crack!_

“I _never_ should’ve believed Dean when he said he was only texting Seamus to ask about an upcoming game they were going to watch.”

_Crack!_

On and on it went until all thirty-six eggs were smashed. Ginny was breathing heavily, staring at the mess they made. 

She felt so much better now. Looking up at Harry’s shadowed face, she couldn’t help but feel this had been cathartic for him, as well. After a moment’s hesitation, Ginny reached out and took Harry’s hand. He startled, looking down, and then met Ginny’s eyes. 

He smiled. 

“Ready to go?”

Ginny nodded, and they silently turned their backs on the house and began to head back towards the station. 

They didn’t speak for some time, instead walking in comfortable silence, still holding hands. Ginny had never felt so relaxed around another person before. 

“Thank you,” she blurted as they neared the station. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry returned quietly. He tugged her to a stop, suddenly looking nervous. “So I drove here,” he said. “I could — would you like a lift back to your place instead of taking the train?”

Ginny knew she ought to say no. She barely knew Harry beyond what the press managed to publish about him, growing up in an abusive home with his aunt and uncle until his godfather was able to prove his innocence in his parent’s deaths and take custody of him, having private tutors until he was ready to attend university at sixteen, his plans to become a lawyer until he was recruited for England’s football team just two years ago…

But looking up at Harry’s face, she found she couldn’t help but trust him. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

The drive to her flat was filled with constant conversation. Ginny told Harry all about growing up with six older brothers, trying out for England’s women’s football team the year before but not making the cut, and he shared stories of growing up with his godfather, how reticent he had been to make friends or be around others after his early years with his relatives, and honestly, Ginny couldn’t help but hope the drive would never end. Harry had a sharp, sarcastic wit and could whip out zingers that had her rolling in her seat. And his smile, the way it made his emerald eyes sparkle in a way she had only witnessed in his best plays for England, it melted something in her. 

She — was she — _falling_ for him?

When he pulled up in front of her building, Ginny found she didn’t want to go, didn’t want this night to end. “Do — d’you want to come up?” she asked. “I mean... I could make a cup of tea or something.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, looking both surprised and pleased. “I’d — I’d like that.”

“It’s not much,” Ginny told him when they stepped inside a couple minutes later. “Really just the one room, but I don’t have to share it with anyone and it keeps me out from under my mum’s smothering —”

“It’s fine,” said Harry quickly. “Really, I don’t mind it at all.”

Ginny smiled, thinking he must just be saying that, but busied herself with making up a pot of tea. “I’ve got biscuits, as well,” she told him, “just up on the top shelf of that cupboard if you could grab them.”

“Is there a reason you keep them up so high?” Harry asked as he opened the cupboard she had indicated and reached up to the top shelf.

“I have to use a step stool to reach it,” she admitted with a grin. “It’s usually too much work, so it keeps me from eating them all in one go.”

Harry laughed. “Using your own height against yourself, I like it.”

Ginny shrugged and grinned some more. “If it works, right?”

Harry nodded and set the package of biscuits on the small table. “So why did you choose to live alone?” he asked. “Does it ever get lonely after growing up with a large family?”

Ginny carefully considered his question as she set two mugs on the table and brought over the teapot, setting it down next to the bowl of sugar. “Sometimes, I suppose,” she admitted. “I love them, and they all love me, don’t get me wrong, but being the only girl and the youngest... I got tired of being treated like a child all the time. Bill, Charlie and Ron all served in different branches of the military, Dad and Percy work for the government, and Fred and George have their prop master and explosive work at Leavesden Studios, but me...” Ginny sighed and dropped into her seat, Harry sitting down in the other chair opposite hers. “All Mum wants for me is to do something simple and safe until I meet the right man so I can settle down and have babies.” She scoffed. “Just be a shop girl, never pursue my own dreams or anything...”

“So you and your mum don’t get on well?” asked Harry. 

“I mean, we do, just not... not on that particular point.” Ginny grimaced and started pouring the tea. Harry took his with two sugars and no milk, just like Ginny. 

“I dunno why Mum thinks I’d make a great housewife, anyway,” said Ginny after she took a sip from her mug. “I can make simple things, but most of what I eat just needs to be heated up. I don’t have her gift for making basically anything from scratch.”

“That good, eh?” said Harry, long fingers wrapped around his mug as he listened. Ginny nodded as she stared for a moment before forcing herself to look up and continue. 

“Our home is out in the country, and she’s always been quite self-sufficient. Chickens, goats, huge garden, apple orchard —”

“That sounds incredible,” said Harry. “Sirius — my godfather, he was left a large inheritance by his parents, and he wasn’t much of a cook himself, but I liked to help out in the kitchen with the staff. I was already pretty decent at cooking most things by the time —” Harry broke off and looked down. 

Ginny hesitantly reached out to place her hand on his arm. “Harry?” She thought she knew what he had been about to say. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “It — it never gets easier to talk about.”

“You mean your relatives, the people you lived with until you were eleven,” said Ginny softly. Harry nodded. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she was quick to reassure him. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Harry met her eyes and smiled. “Strangely enough,” he said, “I — I don’t mind it so much. With you, I mean.”

And Harry began to talk. They drank their way through three mugs of tea each and polished off the package of biscuits as Harry willingly shared details of his childhood that the press had only ever been able to guess at. Ginny talked more about her own childhood, about her first boyfriend and how horrible he had been to her, and she found more and more that she felt less lonely now than she ever had with Dean. 

It was nearly three in the morning when Harry said he really ought to leave. He and Ginny exchanged phone numbers, and she walked him back down to his car. “I had a wonderful night,” she admitted to him. “I — I’ll see you again soon?”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Definitely,” he said. He turned and headed for his car. Ginny watched him go, taking in his lean figure as he drew further away, and suddenly she couldn’t help herself. 

“Harry?” she called out, and when he turned back, she started running over to him. To her delight, Harry met her halfway. She threw her arms around him, and he kissed her. 

It was wonderful, the feel of his lips against hers, his torso firm against her chest as he wrapped his arms around her. This was nothing like kissing Dean or Michael, and so much more than anything she had ever experienced with Tom — it felt right, like she was coming home for the first time. 

Harry’s messy hair was silky beneath her fingers as she drew as close to him as possible. This, _this_ was what a kiss should be. One of his hands was at her back, the other buried in her long hair, and she couldn’t help but wish it would never end. 

But end it eventually did. Harry drew back, green eyes drifting open to meet her gaze, and his smile was dazed, but brilliantly happy. “That was...” he breathed. 

“I know,” whispered Ginny. “Incredible. Like fireworks.”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry, still smiling at her. “So er... I’ll call you. Maybe later? Today I mean.”

Ginny smiled at him. “Yes, please.”

They finally parted with a final kiss, and Harry slowly made his way to his car. He paused to wave at Ginny before getting in, starting the engine, and driving away. Ginny watched him until he turned the corner out of sight, and then she slowly made her way back to her flat, smiling the whole way. 

She couldn’t wait for him to call her. Maybe they could track down and egg Michael’s house next time. In any case, whatever they did, she knew it would be perfect.


End file.
